


Out of Focus

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ADHD, Acid Burns, Bad Days, Blood, Emergency Showers, Explicit Language, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, This Sounds Really Violent But It's Not??, Tony Dyspraxias His Way to Some Mild Injuries, Tony Stark POV, Tony's workshop, Undressing, poor lab safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: “Most of the time I can get in'o a groove or something’s got my attention. But sometimes nothing…nothing catches and I can’t… I ping off of everything, can’ focus on anything. Brain runs too fast.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windscryer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windscryer/gifts).



> for my beloved, on one of their bad days

Tony has been saying, “My concentration’s shot, today’s only going to end in disaster,”all day. Steve (who’s hanging out in the workshop because that’s where he can draw while also spending time with Tony) and Clint (who’s hanging out in the workshop because he’s theoretically supposed to be helping Tony test some prototypes for his bow) have both agreed that he seems a little more scattered than usual, but they don’t really comprehend what Tony _means_ until it happens.

Clint’s leaning against a lab table with his ankles crossed, flicking rubber bands at DUM-E, who keeps trying to grab them out of mid-air and failing spectacularly. The fact that Tony hasn’t bitched at him for it is a testament to his level of distraction. Steve is sitting on the table, legs dangling and his pencil creating idle curly-cues on his pad because most of his attention is on Tony. The engineer keeps dropping things and opening holographic displays only to abandon them thirty seconds later.

It’s strange, because Tony’s always a ball of energy, but all that energy usually has the focus of a laser. Today it’s like someone pointed the laser at a prism and now he’s shooting in every direction at once.

He reaches for the soldering iron sitting on the far end of the lab table and as he’s drawing back, he knocks over a beaker. “Shit,” he says, and scrambles to grab one of the soiled rags crumpled up to his left to sop up the spreading puddle of liquid. The abrupt lurch to his feet throws him off balance and he falls forward, catching himself against the lab table, one hand slapping down right in the middle of the puddle to brace. (Steve’s mouth drops open and he starts to get to his feet.)

“Fuck!” Tony spits out, yanking it back (Clint stares in disbelief) and losing his balance _again_. His leg buckles as his knee twists in an awkward direction and his chin hits the lab table as he collapses, snapping his head backwards, which then cracks against the seat of his lab stool (Steve finds his feet, dropping his sketch pad).

The stool topples, crashing to the floor, and Tony yelps as one of the legs jabs him in the side (Clint starts to his feet, too), curling up instinctively.

The soldering iron he dropped, lying just an inch from his head, ignites a small tuft of hair (“ _Oh my god,_ ” Clint says).

Tony groans, not realizing yet that _he’s on fire_ and Steve falls to his knees, ignoring the bolts of pain that shoot up his thighs, and grabs Tony’s arm, yanking him upright.

He pats out the small flame as quickly as he can, smothering it beneath his palm. When he pries his hand back, there’s a patch of hair missing at Tony’s temple, the skin pink and angry-looking.

“No, lemme go,” Tony slurs, and blood oozes out of the corners of his mouth, “’m fine.” ( _“Holy shit!_ ” Clint says. “You are not _fine_.”) Tony keeps pushing at Steve though, blood bubbling up out of his mouth. “Lemme go I nee’ the shower, don’ touch the table ’s fucking _acid._ ”

“Acid,” Steve echoes, horrified. “You put your hand—”

“I _know_ ,” Tony says, “which’s why I need to—”

Clint side-steps away from the table and Steve hauls Tony to his feet, feeling a pang at the small noise of pain he makes. He turns over Tony’s hand as he hustles him toward the shower at the far end of the lab, and it’s red and raw already. “Dammit! Clint get the shower!” he barks and Clint darts ahead of them to twist the shower on.

“I c'n do it,” Tony protests, but when Steve lets go of him to yank off his shirt, he wobbles precariously.

“What the hell did you have a beaker of acid just sitting on the table for?” Clint demands.

“Rus’ inhibitor,” Tony replies.

“I don’t care what it was _for_ ,” Clint snaps. “There are fucking safety rules, aren’t there?”

Tony purses his lips and reaches to rub at his forehead only to be stopped by Steve’s grip on his arm. Steve drags him under the spray, still fully-clothed himself, Tony in his jeans.

Tony flinches when the water hits his head. “Ow, ow, fuck, fuck,” he says and Clint blurts, “Sorry, too hot? Shit—”

“Put your hand on the wall, Tony. Clint, make sure he doesn’t fall over, will you?”

“Wh’t’re you doing?” Tony asks.

“Getting you out of the rest of these clothes, they might have that stuff on them,” Steve says, stripping Tony of his jeans with ruthless efficiency. “Make sure he’s got that hand under the water.”

“This is the worst day,” Tony says, lifting his foot when Steve taps his leg. The other follows and the jeans are tossed aside with a wet _shlock._

“Jesus, Stark, when you go off the rails you really go off the rails,” Clint says, bracing him with a hand on each shoulder.

Tony laughs and then tilts his head forward and lets a mouthful of blood pour out on to the tiles between his feet. “I ‘hink I bit my tongue.”

“Oh, thank god,” Clint says, with obvious relief, “I thought you had a concussion.”

“I wouldn’ rule that out,” Tony replies, and his eyes close. “Is it 'oo late to go back to bed?”

Steve looks at Clint over Tony’s head and shakes his head. “Nope. We’ll take you straight up after this.”

“Super,” Tony mumbles and then sighs, “I hate days like 'his.”

“What the hell happened anyway?” Clint asks.

Tony tries to wipe some of the water from his face, but it’s a futile effort and he winces as his burnt hand brushes his goatee. “Most of the time I can get in'o a groove or something’s got my attention. But sometimes nothing…nothing catches and I can’t… I ping off of everything, can’ focus on anything. Brain runs too fast.” He uses his uninjured hand to prod gingerly at his mouth and says, “Hones'ly, I did pretty good today. Last time this happened I blew up the lab, collapsed a floor. Pepper almos’ had a heart attack.”

“Jesus,” Clint mutters.

“Okay,” Steve says, “I think you’re probably rinsed enough.”

“You got any spare pants down here?” Clint asks and Tony tips his head toward a cabinet in the corner.

“Should be some in there.”

Clint turns off the water and hands off the job of supporting Tony to Steve, who snags a towel off the hook just outside the shower and starts drying him off. “You should take it easy when you’re feeling like this, Tony,” Steve says.

“I know,” Tony whines. “It’s just—waste of time. I shoul’ be able to control this shit. I’m an adult.”

Steve huffs. “Well, I can understand that. You know it doesn’t work that way though.”

“No shit,” Tony mutters.

Steve skims his hand up Tony’s side, over the spot where the stool jabbed him and Tony winces. Steve looks up at him. “That feel deep to you?”

Tony shakes his head. “Nah, I think my kidney is safe.”

“All right,” Clint announces, “that’s enough bare ass for today. Lift it like you wanna pee on it.”

“Ha ha,” Tony mutters dryly, lifting one leg at a time so Clint can tug a pair of sweats onto his legs. “I’d smack you, but I’d probably hit myself.”

“Very likely,” Clint agrees.

“We should have listened to you earlier,” Steve says and drops the towel over Tony’s head, giving his hair a quick scrub to dry it a little. “C'mon, we’ll go upstairs and put something on the TV. Bring a tablet. Maybe we can talk the others into playing a game. You can get distracted doing some less dangerous things.”

They may not be able to do much to get Tony back in the groove, but they can at least keep him from doing anymore damage while he’s out of alignment.


End file.
